


puzzle pieces (1)

by prunuspersicaarchive (prunuspersica)



Series: nothing goes unspoken when the colours unfold [1]
Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Getting Together, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, MacDennis - Freeform, Making Out, alcohol mention, bashin' rats, disassociating mention, inspired by kafkian's these things get loud sometimes, kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2019-01-01 03:34:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12147759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prunuspersica/pseuds/prunuspersicaarchive
Summary: it's gotten to the point where mac can't focus; the golden god is, after all, intoxicatingly handsome.or, dennis finally getting an answer, and finally feeling love.part 1 of a macdennis series.





	puzzle pieces (1)

**Author's Note:**

> y'all this is my first sunny fic sorry

**Mac’s POV**

 

It’s around 3:30, Monday afternoon. The whole gang is sat in the bar, (empty as usual), with the exception of Charlie, who decided to lay on the ground to try and listen to rats, and Frank, in the back office working on some scam. Dee walks over to Dennis and I with a tray of some new drink she invented and hands them out.

 

“Tell me what you guys think, okay?” Dee says, taking a sip of her own. “I call this the Sweet Dee, like my name, but also a drink. Charlie, you want one?” 

 

Charlie sits up on the dirty floor.

 

“Shut up, I’m trying to listen to the rats, you bitch!” Charlie whines, in his typical Charlie voice. “But I mean, yeah, I want the drink. I think I hear the rats!” 

 

“So now you know there are rats inside the walls and floors of this building. What do you do to get rid of them if they’re in the goddamn floor?” Dennis replies. 

 

“Easy. I climb into the floor and bash the shit out of the rats!” The excitement about ‘bashing rats’ in Charlie’s eyes is morbidly comical. 

“Charlie, you can’t bash the rats inside the walls and floors. Just put some rat poison in, they’ll all be dead within an hour,” I respond, much to Charlie’s dismay. I glance over at Dennis, for maybe a little too long, before taking a long swig of my ‘Sweet Dee’ and giving Dee a thumbs up. Dee grins, a bit of a whore for validation. Charlie stands up and grabs a drink and Dennis and Dee start bickering about something. 

 

I don’t really care, or rather I’m not paying any attention, and Charlie chugs his strange orange ‘Sweet Dee’ and lays back down on the floor. Nothing makes sound anymore, it’s just watching Dennis’s perfect lips move, and the way his forehead scrunches up when he’s upset-- _ shut up, Mac, you’re not gay. Get back into life. Fucking idiot.  _ But damn, if I didn’t want to stare at him forever. 

  
  


**Dennis’s POV**

 

Tuesday, 7:45 in the evening or so. I sit down on the couch next to Mac with a bowl of popcorn in my lap, in an old t-shirt I think is Mac’s and some pajama pants, ready to watch some stupid action movie he suggests. Popcorn is so light, I guess I should eat some so as not to concern Mac. The guy’s obsessed with me, and I doubt he’d make a move on it but I wish he would. He’s been acting odd lately, zoning out and all that, and nobody’s said anything but I’ve seen him staring at me a few times.

 

“So you got anything in mind, or are we just going to watch Predator  _ again? _ ” I ask him as he mindlessly grabs some of my popcorn, munching on it in a way I find too cute. Why, goddamnit.

 

“Uh, I got nothing. Predator it is,” he declares. 

 

“Hey, you okay, dude? You’ve been acting kind of weird lately,” I say, attempting to weasel an answer out of him. 

 

“Y-yeah man, I’m fine. Just… tired. Yeah,” Mac mumbles. I don’t believe him, but I guess I should probably leave him alone for now. I mean, sure, I want to kiss him, but all the best things in life are worth waiting for? Not for Dennis Reynolds, usually, but I’ll let this go. Mac gets up and pops the DVD into the player and presses play; I eat a single kernel of popcorn. He sits back down next to me, a little further away than before.

 

“What’s with the distance? I don’t bite,” I ask him with that smirk I always do. Makes him weak. “Okay, that’s a lie, I’ll probably bite if needed. Still.”

 

Mac blushes awkwardly, and shakes his head.

 

“Just where I landed, I guess. Hey, d’you hear Charlie found a stray cat? Frank’s pissed about it, bro,” he responds, quickly switching subjects and takes another handful of popcorn.

 

“Yeah, I mean, the dude eats cat food to sleep, I figured it was only a matter of time. What is it, a tabby?”

Mac shrugs and finishes off the popcorn in his hand before turning to me, grinning a little as we lock eyes for a split second, and leans back on the couch. I do the same and we start watching the movie, in comfortable, benign silence. Silence is rare with this fucking trainwreck of a friend group, an undoubtedly dysfunctional one, but it’s sweet. 

 

He inches his hand closer to my leg every few minutes, trying to act casual. Predator Tuesday sure does bring out the gay in Mac, even if he drifts further from me every week lately, we have a constant. Nothing has really been a constant for the entirety of our adult life, but it’s quite nice. It was my idea, and I’m proud of it. 

 

Finally, his hand is on my thigh, and we sit there in the complete silence watching Predator, the sun setting through the curtains. Dee picked some ugly curtains, but I'd call this moment romantic if it wasn't teeming with denial. I don't think he notices that his hand is resting on my thigh; I don't think he realizes that even his subconscious movement is magnetically attracted to me. I'd kiss him right now, if it weren't for every single reason against it…

 

**Mac’s POV**

 

Does Dennis notice my hand’s made its way onto his thigh? Am I escaping God’s eye yet again; making a subtle effort to just be touching Dennis, that gorgeous son of a bitch.  _ That gorgeous son of a bitch.  _ He doesn’t mention it, just rests his hand on mine, which isn’t gay, if you ask me, just wanting to always be touching a man, uh…

 

The movie progresses, the popcorn slowly disappears, and we don’t mention the hand-holding. I mean, if you could call it that. Two bros, watching a movie. I want to kiss him. My cheeks are on fire, he won’t so much as flick his oceanic-blue eyes my way for a nanosecond, so though it’s risky I guess I feel safe blushing like a fucking fool. 

 

“That your hand?” Dennis murmurs, entwining his fingers with mine. I swear my heart’s buzzing.

  
  


Wednesday morning, and like, ass-o-clock. Last night was awkward, but progress I guess. I should stop denying how I’ve been in love with him for a good 20 years. Dennis.  _ That gorgeous son of a bitch.  _

 

“Mornin’, Den,” I sleepily mumble as he enters the kitchenette in his bathrobe, his hair all curly and messy. He still looks stunning without all the makeup but I’m not complaining if it makes him happy. He looks kind of exhausted.

 

“How’d you sleep?” I ask, expecting a  _ ‘not well’,  _ or even a  _ ‘fuck you and let me go back to bed’ _ . He shrugs at me, and gets a cup of yesterday’s cold coffee. 

 

“I slept fucking awful, Mac, thanks for asking,” he groans before downing three-quarters of the coffee. I grab a cup as well, and then just set it on the counter, probably to put cold coffee, milk, and sugar in later, after I forget.

 

“I could tell,” I respond. “You know, you can go back to bed.”

 

“The Golden God does not sleep.” He chuckles a little bit, and I watch the dark bags under his eyes scrunch up as he laughs. 

 

“Perfect…” I exhale to myself, hoping he won’t hear, I guess.

 

“Thanks,” he whispers back. Fuck.

 

“Mac, can we talk?” 

 

There goes my heart, dropping faster than a rock thrown off of a cliff.

 

**Dennis’s POV**

 

Exhaustion is a good cover for asking  weird questions, I’ve learned. Here I go, then.

 

"Mac, you've been acting weird lately." I put it bluntly. He's not the brains of the group.

 

"How so, Den," he inquires lazily, filling his cup with the cold coffee as well, and grimacing at the bitterness when it touches his tongue.

 

Just zoning out, completely. Like I knew you were stupid but pay attention, Mac-"

"Hey now, just because you went to like half a year of college doesn't mean you're smarter than me-"

 

"I am, in fact I know this because within thirty gruelling seconds I am able to confuse you with overly complicated sentences you couldn’t even  _ begin  _ to comprehend, also I went to Penn. You argue, I'll gut you alive, I swear to God, Mac. I will use your stupid katana and I will enjoy your pained sounds. Case closed, Mac. You  _ held my hand _ last night for fuck’s sake, you’ve been zoning out and daydreaming like a goddamn idiot."

That second-to-last part wasn't true, I love him. Besides the point. I glance back at him after drinking the rest of my coffee.

 

He looks slightly lost.

 

"This is what I'm saying! Quit staring at my ass, Mac, and get back in the game."

His eyes slowly pan back up to my face and look into mine. Pretty, dark eyes that probably make everyone a little weak. Beautiful lips, huh.

 

"...Guess I have been acting weird?" Mac shrugs and turns around for coffee before I grab him by the hips and pull him flush to my own body.

 

He opens his mouth to say something but whatever it is, it can wait, I think as I mindlessly lock my lips onto his. Just as I've done so many times before, taking advantage of the man was besides the point because it was always initiated by him, however piss-ass drunk the guy was. Apparently enough to never remember. I know what makes him squirm under me now, and I bet he's wondering how I do.

 

"You've always been mine, Mac," I whisper in that husky, sexy voice he seems to love. He trembles under my touch, a leaf under rain, his body tensing with each new expedition of my fingers.

 

I suck on his bottom lip just the way I know he likes it; Mac's eyes shut tight as I trace my hand down the side of his neck, feeling the stubble fade away into soft skin ready for my marks. His eyes are so gorgeous, innocent, hazel, and yet I'd stoop low enough to call most of my friends absolutely depraved, including myself. Charlie's good, though. Anyway.

 

"You dare leave a mark on me where the rest of the gang can see it I swear to God I'll slap you," he whines as I bite his collarbone. "Oh, Den, fucking hell..."

 

I like the way he melts under me. I like the way all his muscles tense when I touch the right spots and he looks so strong and gorgeous. For the first time, practically, I'm able to make him moan exactly how I wanted, my love. Mine. And sober, too.

 

I kiss him so many more times, watching him slowly unravel and holding him as close to me as I possibly can. He laughs when I tickle his back, and it's adorable. He motions for me to come back to his lips where I belong for a moment, and then grabs my ass suddenly.

 

"Fuck, that's good," Mac whines into my open lips, and before he has the chance to say anything else I have him trapped in another deep, sloppy kiss, the poetic and slow and meaningful kind you have when you're either blackout drunk, like we were, or in love. I guess I really am in love.

 

-

 

_ "I'm Hugh Honey and this is my partner, Vic Vinegar, we're partners in real estate and we're uh, partners in life." _

 

_ "Did he just try to kiss me?" "Yeah, he did a little bit." _

 

_ "Dennis, wait-! Don't go... I love you." _

 

_ “Do that for me, okay baby boy?”  _

 

_ - _

 

"Good morning assdicks," Dee enters the kitchenette mid-yawn before opening her eyes and gasping a little.

 

"Shit, Dee, it's not what it looks like," Mac states nervously, shoving me away.

 

"Mac, what it looks like is that you were making out with my brother. We all knew you were gay-" Mac raises a finger, "-but Dennis? I mean I've seen the sexual tension, it's insane, but Dennis?"

 

Mac blushes the colour of a strawberry, leaving me to explain. Shit.

 

"You're bi, dude?" Dee asks me. I nod awkwardly; I guess I'll fuck anyone who thinks highly enough of me. And Mac is obsessed with me, therefore I fall completely in love with him. The simplicity of human thought.

  
  


**Mac’s POV**

 

Standing outside of someone’s room about to talk to them gets infinitely more uncomfortable when you’re trying to put together some kind of statement to confirm 25+ years of repressed homosexuality, doesn’t it, is th--

 

“Oh, hey, Mac, I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” Dennis says as my thoughts go completely blank.

 

“Me too?” 

 

“Mac, look, I know things have been a complete mess for so many years--”

 

“No shit, Dennis,”

 

“Please, just let me finish. I…”

 

Our eyes meet for a few seconds with a look I’ve never seen before; Dennis’ vulnerable side. It’s a confusing thing, but then again, Dennis is the most confusing thing that’s ever happened to me. 

 

“Dennis, I-”

 

“I want to finish, Mac,” he responds, quick as usual, holding a slender finger up to my lips. I push his hand away and he fights it a little before submitting.

 

“Dennis, I’m in love with you. And I know you’re just going to say, ‘yes, Mac, I know,’ like the egotistical bastard you’ve always been, but you’re the person that I… that I love.”

 

The silence could be cut with a knife, before Dennis parts his perfect fucking lips to respond; with that little indescribable sound of… lips parting.

 

“Mac, I…” 

 

Dennis is an enigma. He is a living mind game, with a perfect face, perfect body, perfect hair, perfect voice, and he’d ensnared me unknowingly when I was just fifteen, naive and way too religious. And now I’m 40 years old, like him, slowly losing grip of my core beliefs in the big ol’ sky man, for a walking puzzle by the name of Dennis Reynolds. He doesn’t properly show emotions, or he’s well-versed in keeping his more delicate emotions neatly tucked away in a triple-locked box to hide. I know him, I’d like to think. His face is trying to be blank, empty, but I can see his bright blue eyes well up with tears, over  _ me.  _ And sure, he’s seen me cry so many times, hell I’ve probably drunk-cried in his lap before, and that’s fine. I’m fine.

 

“I uh, I love you too.”


End file.
